"Parenting tip of the day"

"Parenting Tip of the Day from Parents.com

Find a quiet place today and take a deep breath. Remember that perfection is unattainable and chaos is reality. Remind yourself that getting down on the floor and playing with your kids is more important than that sink of breakfast dishes, and to carve out time to nurture your body, soul, and marriage."

Blah blah BLAH, blah blah blah.

If I were not on vacation, that would get a big fat "fuck you."

As it is, I AM on vacation, and I am feeling pretty good, so I'll just say, "Oh, please." That kind of statement contains bits that every parent knows, but it is also the kind of statement that would make most busy parents want to punch the statement-maker in the throat. We know that it's more important to play with your kids than it is to do the dishes, theoretically, but the dishes simply will not do themselves. We know that we should carve out time for body, "soul," and marriage (or partnership), but if you can't even get to the frickin' breakfast dishes, from just where is that time going to come?

Yes, I am going to make time to go to the spa, kneel in front of my closet altar and meditate, as well as have a romantic dinner with my husband, just as soon as I get down on the floor and play with my kid and do the breakfast dishes. I'll be right with you.

I have found that it's almost impossible for me to relax at home if there are obvious chores to be done, which is why I am often trying to get so much accomplished, so I might have that time to really enjoy my family. It's why I spent so much time trying to get so much done before I left: I did not want to come home to it. So far, only two days into this trip, I have had to remind myself that I am not at home, so there are no chores, at least not in the same sense, and we don't have to get to work, drive to day care, feed the cats, wash diapers, or be on any sort of schedule. I paid the bills before I left, and I did my best to wrap up work.

I can walk down the 54 steps to the beach and play in the sand with my son first thing in the morning and not have to think that there is something else I should be doing because quite simply, there isn't. I get to enjoy my family. You can say that we see each other every day, and while that's certainly true, we see each other enmeshed in the web of our daily responsibilities, and it's difficult to find any sort of peace during which to relax. It's always either the calm before the storm or it's the storm, and neither are terribly peaceful.

But this is.

Let's go fly a kite...

...once the hurricane passes.

(Yes, we were the people in the local hardware store buying balsa wood gliders and a kite while other people were getting batteries and asking about generators. Weather report: it rained a little bit, then stopped for awhile. Then it poured for 15 minutes. Now it's just cloudy. People report: Finn and Pete are napping, along with perhaps the rest of the house. It's very quiet. I am doing this, Joyce is reading, and GrammaSue is watching the Weather Channel.)

Neighbors

The house we are in is part of a small compound. It's no Kennedy Compound, but it'll do. There are almost as many liberals here as there.

There are two houses, one main house and the holiday house.

We are in the holiday house, which is the smaller of the two, as you might guess. The main house is currently occupied by a group of students from Stanford. Yesterday while Pete was assembling the kite, there was a brief outburst of high-jinks that made Finn point and say, "Running around."

"Oh great," I said. "As if I needed another reminder that I am old and fat," as I watched four bikini-clad, toned women posing for goofy pictures taken by one of the two young men in evidence. Not long after that, there was some sort of game involving water ballons, bowls of water, and, finally, sprinklers. "What are they doing?" said Pete. I looked at him, aghast. "Um, making girls run in bikinis by getting them wet, causing them to bounce and squeal."

I've never been prouder of my gender.

Or of his, for that matter.

That Pete thought there was perhaps a purpose to the "game" going on next door is, I suppose, testament to either his adorable naivete, his higher mind, or just his competitive nature. I'm really not sure.

I was just trying to figure out how two relatively nerdy guys had four attractive women seemingly all to themselves in an expensive house on Cape Cod. I figured it had to have something to do with money.

It's either that, or we are going to be in the background of some sort of MTV reality show as the older, remarkably unhip, and mildly disapproving family just trying to have wholesome fun with their toddler.

RRRRRRRLLLLL

It's 10:50 a.m., and it has started to rain. Just a little bit. It would be nothing if we didn't know what is behind it. We brought in chairs and other beachy items, and that's about it for now.

OK, now it's raining a little more.

Hurricane Watch

It's cloudy this morning, but so far, that's it.

So, You're a Hurricane. And Your Name is Earl? Yeah, OK.

I just came in from the beach. I figured I should get in there before Earl has his way with the Cape tomorrow and Saturday. 100 mile per hour winds are projected for the Cape tomorrow.

Fun!

Everyone needs a little adventure on their vacation. You just usually hope it isn't the kind that makes the news.

Vacation, Had to Get Away

Baby’s asleep, and there’s no Internet. It’s 8:15 Minnesota time, on the first night of our vacation. A real vacation, I mean, away from home, in a different environment—at least for me—for more than a long weekend. Geographically, topographically, ecologically, architecturally, linguistically, economically, nutritionally, we are in a different place.

Sure, it’s not Saint Paul to Cameroon, but even the seemingly slight differences in our own large country matter, and they should be appreciated and savored. We had swordfish and bluefish with our corn-on-the-cob. We are sitting in a shingled cape cod cottage with bare nails poking through the unfinished ceiling. We are on a salt bay beach, complete with sand and shells. We are renting from people with money. Here, we take a baah-th, not a beh-th, and tomorrow, I don’t have to go to work.

And I am going to try not to check my work email.

Not having access to a wireless network will help with that, but then again, how do I blog?

There’s a crib here, but perversely, it’s in the room with the two twin beds. I guess they must figure that anyone with a kid doesn’t want to sleep in the same room as their kid, or maybe they figure that all kids would sleep in that room, and all adults would sleep in others. Yeah, that’s probably it. Didn’t even occur to me until just now. After trying to wheel the crib through the door, I decided that it had been assembled in that room, and that was where it was going to stay. I took out the mattress and put it on the floor in our room, bordered by pillows, and that’s where he is right now. Wiped out and asleep on his back in a probably soaking wet diaper. We’ll pay for it later. I sent Pete back downstairs to be with his family. I’m not done for the day, but I don’t want him to wake up in a strange room by himself, out of earshot. This vacation will probably force us to buy a monitor. We don’t have one at home because our house is like a dollhouse, and we really don’t need it, but this is two stories, and there’s plenty of opportunity and enticement to being outside, under the stars.

I don’t mind. I have things to say. I have a good book. I have two Guinnii. Even without wireless, I think I will be OK.

(Oh, and there's wireless here)

Fly Boy

Packed and ready to go. Without the car seat, this would have been completely manageable. With the car seat, we looked like crazy bag people trying to save 25 bucks by not checking another bag. As it was, the one bag we checked--that big orange one--weighed in at 61 pounds, costing us an extra $90 on top of the $25. I blame the big box of CD's Pete brought, because I can. It's my blog. We'll see what it adds up to on the way home. The thing that gets me is that it's the only bag we checked for three people. They should have paid us.

It's 12:05, and we are over the vast expanse of Lake Huron,  its blue waters merging with the sky. Finn is done with the plane.

We have two hours to go.

Pete is changing a poopy diaper because mama does not leave her seat on an airplane, preferring to remain rooted by fear to one spot. There's quite a line forming because it takes Pete a long time to change a poopy diaper in the comfort of our living room, let alone in the confined box of an airplane lavatory. From what I remember, they are pretty small. I made it to Dublin and back without using one, so I could be wrong. I think I have only been in one once. I am convinced that I won't be able to get out, and an embarrassing scene will ensue, involving numerous flight attendants and much head shaking from other passengers. One of my main goals in life is not to be the subject of strangers' dinner conversation. "On the plane today, this idiotic woman locked herself in the labatory. No, I don't think she was 'special.'"

Yes, yes, he's very cute. Note the completely placid 22-month-old who didn't make a sound, right there in the background. Had he not been on the plane for comparison, Finn would have been a pretty good child. As it was, when compared with the other boy, Finn was Average. Also, note the snack container. I can thank A.'s mother for that. She had one at the State Fair, packed with healthy snacks. She's brilliant and organized.

Finn was not going to sit still. I am hyper conscious of trying not to annoy child-free parents, straddling the fence between knowing what it's like to be sick of children and thinking "Screw you, Stink Eye, let's see you do better." It's an uncomfortable fence, complete with splinters and barbed wire.

He needed a nap, but I didn't think that will happen without boob, and I didn't particularly want to freak out prudish Americans who are usually shocked at a nursing child who can speak. There's no logic behind the statement "If you can ask for it, you're too old for it," especially considering that we are told for the rest of our lives that you have to ask for what you want.

Mini Magnadoodle-type drawing pad. It kept him quite occupied for a short period of time. That's the way it is. New book for a little while. Snacks. New toy car (muscle, Matchbox). Snacks. Magnadoodle. iPad. Nap. The snacks are crucial. Bring many.

Finn and Pete played in an empty row for awhile, but when Pete tried to bring him back, he started shriek-whining and back-arching, two of the most grating and publicly humiliating toddler behaviors there are. Conventional means of amusement were no longer working, so we broke out the technology.

Hello, iPad.

We played a few games, and then the eye rubbing began, so we put on Nemo (Finding, not Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea). The headphones were a little weird for him, so now Finn is sitting on Pete's lap, and Pete is reciting the movie.

Yes, we have seen it that many times.

I wanted to be one of those parents who didn't prop herself up on the crutch of television, but a girl's gotta have a break. As fun as it would have been to be superior and smug, inwardly judging people who park their kids in front of Barney, I think I'd rather be able to get something done every once in a while, or even just sit and stare sometimes.

There are plenty of other things I can judge other people for.

In preparation for this flight, I brought grapes, raspberries, hippie pop tarts, crispy rice bars (peanut butter, hippie), and crackers (regular and bunny). We had a few new toys and new books, plus the apps on the iPad and iTouch. Even with all that, once he got too tired, it was down to Pillow to save the day, so he tucked into the corner next to his car seat and fell asleep. Aside from one very short episode with ear pressure, he stayed asleep until all the other passengers were off the plane.

Note to self: next time, no car seat. It is too huge and cumbersome. We'll rent one with the car. Even on the way home, we are checking it.